


Two lonely souls at night

by Herbeloved82



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13070055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herbeloved82/pseuds/Herbeloved82
Summary: Marcus spends the night on the boat.





	Two lonely souls at night

Peter thought he had seen everything in his life. Many of his closest friends had died on the field and the few who came back home were never the same after what they witnessed. 

Every war was different, but what made impossible for him to forget Kosovo was the ethnic cleansing. Thousands of women, girls and even children raped in the name of an ideology. So many of them died because of the wounds or killed themselves for the misplaced blame. 

PTSD became an intimate friend and for too long even a lover. Then he found help, a way to keep going and something to focus on. He was a bit of a recluse now, favoring the nature and animals to the company of men most of the time, but slowly he got better, he got time to heal and be functional again. 

The man in front of him was one of the most broken beings Peter ever seen in his life and at the same time one of the strongest. Life had tried to destroy him since the beginning but he never gave up. Marcus kept standing up again and again, and now he was a walking ruin of a man, exhausted and lost but not ready to stop yet. 

There were many little things he appreciated in a man but Marcus was a living example of what he would always cherish in humanity. 

Broken inside and outside, betrayed so many times Peter didn’t know how much of Marcus’ trust was left inside him, alone - like an old beast left behind by its pack - and still ready to help strangers. 

There were so many things tragically beautiful in Marcus. Peter was sure his soul was so mutilated to look like an ancient lace, beautiful to watch but so delicate that could turn to dust if handled wrong. 

The kiss they shared was both desperate and sweet. It was a kiss that spoke of pain and starvation, of lost hope and belief that the future could be better, that the wasn’t written for this particular story. 

But then, Marcus retreated. Eyes like a trapped deer, filled with fear, looked at Peter with desperation. 

“I should get back.” 

Marcus was a soldier, of a different kind maybe, but still a soldier and duty always came first even if that meant going on when all he needed was rest and someone who could take the burden from his shoulder, at least for a bit. 

Peter knew he could be that man. Knew he could help Marcus now. Perhaps it was his only chance but it was better than standing by and watching while this strange and drained man faced yet another war, once again alone against the world. 

“I’d like for you to stay.” 

He wouldn’t force him if Marcus really wanted to go, he was free to. Peter would bring him back to the island and nothing would change the good time they had together, or what had been created in the little time they spent together. 

For a few hours, they had been the only inhabitants of a world made only for them. For a few hours, Marcus’ masks had laid on the ground and the real, hurt young boy he was inside, had been free to show without fear of being hurt again. 

If Marcus wanted to go they would still have all of that, but Peter would always regret not being enough to bring a bit of peace on that battered man. 

The look on his face was priceless. Marcus looked up at him like a prey surrounded by dogs, searching for a way out that wasn’t there. Could it be possible that no one ever desired him? That no one ever told him he was wanted? Peter couldn’t say he knew much about the Church, but the thought that no one ever noticed how starved for affection Marcus was - simply put - wrong. 

It happened in a second; a small nod, so small that Peter almost missed it and Marcus agreed to stay. Fear was still clear in his eyes and Peter swore he would make him forget everything, at least for a while. Marcus deserved peace and if it was in Peter to offer it, he would do it gladly. 

They took the stairs to the lower deck, into the cabin of the boat, in silence but Peter couldn’t stop noticing how Marcus’ eyes darted everywhere but never landed on him when he was looking, only to feel their inquisitive attention on his neck when his head was turned. 

With a gentle smile, Peter offered Marcus his hand and was secretly satisfied when strong and long fingers grasped his. Marcus was accepting the comfort Peter was ready to offer, or at least the gesture felt like it. 

*** 

Peter loved his boat, it gave him freedom and a way out every time life became too demanding all over again. That love was clear in the attention put into the many details of his room that somehow it ended being cozy and comfortable enough that even the tension in Marcus’ back eased a little while he looked at everything. 

That was something else they had in common: the need to make sure a place was safe before letting their guard down. Too many echoes of scandals related to the Church Peter had heard during the years came back to his mind and made him wonder if perhaps there wasn’t something more in his past, something that Marcus didn’t tell him. And yet, it wasn’t his place to ask and r Marcus wasn’t required to offer more than what he already shared. 

To his surprise, Marcus was the first to break the silence. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, looking at the floor. A man like him should never appear so ashamed of something. The confession only spoke of how strong his faith had been, of how loyal his soul was. 

Closing the little space between them, Peter cradled Marcus’ face between his hands. “I’ll be honored to be the one showing you.” Peter put all the honesty he could master in those words. It really was an honor to be someone’s first. Marcus’ confession and offering felt like a gift from a God he forgot how to believe in and suddenly Peter felt unworthy. 

The moment in which something switched inside Marcus was clear like daylight. Marcus’s eyes went from downcast and shy to stubborn and resolved and Peter knew he was dealing with a virgin, but not a shy and fragile flower. 

The kiss they shared spoke of hunger and need -- of what Peter couldn’t be sure, but he still answered with the same passion. His tongue curled around Marcus’, eager and curious. The man kissed like he lived, taking what he was given and making the most out of it. 

If desperation had a taste it would be Marcus’ kiss. Peter’s strong hands - hardened by years spent handling guns and ropes - slipped under Marcus’ shirt and he felt his muscles jump in surprise. Marcus’ body was lean, his muscles hard, the body of a man who never got used to laziness. The body of a man who knew his life depended on how fit he was. 

Watching Marcus get rid of his jacket and shirt while still touching him, feeling him with his hands - like a blind man eager to know everything of the one in front of him - was the closest thing to seeing God Peter could think about. 

And there they were, the scars Marcus talked about, the ones he gave to himself to escape the demons of his mind, and the ones given to him by real demons wearing human bodies. His mouth went dry. There was nothing he could say to change what had happened, to take that pain away. He could only give Marcus hope for the future, taking his mind from the present for a bit. 

Without any sudden movements, Peter pushed Marcus on the bed. Once again, he looked scared and surprised and once again, he didn’t voice any of the emotions darting all over his face. His eyes were the most expressive things Peter had ever seen before. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want, Marcus.” Peter kissed his lips again and this time, when he looked back at Marcus, laying under him, he saw how red and swollen they were, shining with their mixed saliva. He wanted to devour him alive. 

“We’ll go at the pace you want.” That was the right thing to say because Marcus’ body went slack after he heard that. 

Marcus took his time lavishing all of his attention on Marcus. The first time his lips closed around the slightly raised skin of a silvery scar that ran along his inner forearm, Marcus startled a bit.   
“What - what are you doing?” 

Peter looked up, his lips still kissing Marcus’ skin. His voice had sounded so vulnerable and innocent Peter could almost see the man in his bed as the young boy no one wanted. “I’m worshipping you.” Was Peter’s honest answer. 

“Only God deserves to be worshipped, Peter.”

“You’re one of his sons. You’re made in His own image. Worshipping you, I’m worshipping Him.” And doing it was the closest thing to praying that Peter did since he was a child. 

Another scar, another kiss. Some were lapped at, kissed and devoured, like his lips could erase all the pain that they still carried. Marcus’ skin was addictive. Peter couldn’t get enough of his taste, slightly salty but hiding a sweetness he never knew before. 

And when he felt Marcus’ hands reaching for him - tentative and a bit shy - he smiled against his neck before biting down with care. He wanted to leave his marks on Marcus, not cause more pain. 

The gasp that was offered in exchange was an incentive to keep going. His lips attacked Marcus’ neck, again and again, biting and licking and gently lapping at the new marks raising on his skin and flesh.

Deft fingers danced around his waist, half stroking the smooth skin there, half touching the rough material of his jeans. He waited in a silent request for permission. A part of him wanted to wait and make sure that Marcus was comfortable enough to keep going, another part - and Peter was ashamed to say it was getting stronger and stronger at any moment - just wanted to destroy the offending clothes and drink in the view of Marcus’ naked body. 

His only answer was given by short and blunt fingernails pressing down into the muscles of his back, forcing Peter’s body closer to his. It was given by a demanding kiss pressed against his mouth, sharp teeth biting at his lips, his tongue demanding entrance. 

Peter unfastened Marcus’ belt with ease and didn’t waste time with the single button of his jeans. Unzipping them only asked for two fingers and finally, the black cotton of his briefs appeared. 

But when his fingers could drift in the happy trail or be amazed by how thick and still soft his hair was, Marcus grabbed his wrist with force and Peter stopped like he promised. The silence between them stretched for a long moment and Marcus’ light eyes became the door to his soul. 

If Peter ever wondered what kind of man could become an exorcist - and he had to admit that the thought never crossed his mind - the answer would be someone able to feel and empathize with humanity on such a deep level that the pain of many became his own and he carried it even for those who weren’t strong enough to do it alone. A man like Marcus, whose emotions were now so close to the surface that it felt like watching a maelstrom made by fear and want and the pain of a broken child who was forced to grow up so fast, the desperation of a man who had faced too much already and forgot how to be human again. 

When Marcus closed his eyes, unable to maintain contact with Peter’s, the other man was at loss. He didn’t know what to do until Marcus’ voice broke the tension forming between them. 

“I want to see you. Let me see you,” he pleaded, and he looked vulnerable now, exposed like he probably never allowed anyone else to see him. It was yet another gift Peter was given and didn’t think he deserved. 

Peter had to stop touching Marcus to undress. something that was harder than he had imagined. A small smile turned his lips -- for the first time in years he felt like a young boy all over again, unsure of what he was doing. 

During the years, he had his share of flings, some important, some unhealthy and wrong, some that only lasted one night with men he had just met and that like him needed a different kind of poison to keep going another day, but he had never been with someone like Marcus. 

If there was one thing that the Army stripped from Peter, it was the feeling of shyness about showing his body. Men and women forced to live so close to each other for months on end soon learned how to see nakedness as natural. That taught him to never be embarrassed by his body. 

Like Marcus’, his looked like a battlefield. Both of them carried too many scars that life left on them. They could understand each other and words weren’t needed. No questions had to be asked because they already knew the answers. Being with someone who could understand and relate was the one gift he had to offer back to Marcus. 

When the clothes left his body and were left in a mess on the floor, Marcus’ eyes lost some of the dark emotions that mirrored his internal turmoil. Naked, Peter towered back over Marcus and he didn’t waste time. One of his hands hooked behind Peter’s neck, bringing him close for another kiss. 

His broad hands were back to exploring Marcus’ body, stroking and admiring every inch of him, branding his reactions in his mind so that he would never forget. 

This time when his fingers met the jeans again, Marcus didn’t try to stop him. He arched his back, pushing his chest against Peter’s in a new and sensual touch that made both men moan, allowing Peter to take them off along with his underwear. 

Marcus looked like an offering and Peter knew all he had to do was to take it, to accept what was given. The click made by the lube cap sounded deafening in the silence and at the same time anchored them to the reality of the moment. 

Peter was careful. The right amount between his hands, rubbed together to warm the viscous fluid and then, one of those hands went back on Marcus’ body, forcing his legs apart in the gentlest way he could manage. 

Now Marcus needed both to be reassured and to be shown that Peter could and would give it what his body needed. That Peter could be stronger than the doubts his mind would project and could anchor him to the present, could offer him pleasure without pain or regrets. 

Marcus tried to fight his hand, to cover his most intimate part by closing his legs, but he never voiced the need for Peter to stop, so he kept going, gently urging him to accept the touch and the care it carried. 

“You’re beautiful like this.” Was the whisper blown in his ear before the delicate skin of the lobe was taken between strong teeth that didn’t cause pain and sucked in a mouth that was sinfully warm and wet. 

Distracting Marcus wasn’t a hardship, but the most sensual thing that Peter ever did. He never had a lover who needed to be coaxed and reassured like Marcus and it was a stroke to his ego when he surrendered and relaxed under his hand, opening up to Peter and everything he wanted to do. 

Marcus was hard and precum leaked already from his cock. Peter wasn’t surprised or bothered, it was a natural reaction and something that Marcus needed so desperately. Coming and relaxing would only make things easier when Peter would take him.

He wrapped his fingers around Peter’s cock and began to stroke. Usually, his lover would tell him how he loved to be handled, but with Marcus, it was something to explore together. His hand was tight enough to give pressure and friction, but not enough to hurt, not even slightly. Marcus already had too much pain in his life and experience told him that a man with his past would enjoy simple pleasure. 

The lube and the precum, mixed together, made sure that the burning sensation of skin against skin wasn’t present while Peter took Marcus closer and closer to madness. The reaction of his body was exquisite. The muscles of his long legs jumped and clenched, unable to decide how to answer to the stimuli that the hand job sent to his brain. But it was his face that focused Peter’s attention. 

Marcus was the picture of sexual ecstasy. His long neck arched and exposed, begging to be marked and bitten and licked, to be lavished with all kind of attention. His eyes closed - hiding his inner needs and secrets, his desires and the dark fantasies that pleasure always brought with it - his shaped mouth open in an “oh” of pure bliss. Peter couldn’t resist. He kissed that mouth, stealing Marcus’ breath and a name he knew it was forming on his lips. A name that wasn’t his. But his was the tongue that lapped at every moan and whimper, at every groan and whisper. Marcus’ heart belonged to someone else - that was clear even if Marcus himself didn’t know it - but those things and the moments in his bed belonged to Peter alone. 

When Marcus came, Peter kissed his choked screech away and waited for the waves of the orgasm to leave his body, forehead against forehead, calming him down with gentle nonsenses and praises. 

Light and shiny eyes looked into Peter’s in a silent exchange. “Thank you, Peter.” The smile on his face was all Peter needed to know that what he did would always be cherished by his lover. 

“No, thank you.” Was his genuine answer. Marcus really had no idea what having him in his bed did for Peter. But tonight wasn’t about him, it was about Marcus and nothing else. 

A kiss - more a peck on his closed lips - was Marcus’ answer. He didn’t know what to do, his body needed the physical closeness and that Peter was offering, it looked for it scooting closer to the other man, but there was a restlessness in his movements that Peter didn’t miss. 

“Are you okay?” He asked while his lips couldn’t leave the smooth skin of Marcus’ neck alone. His flat tongue licked the salty drops of sweat, causing Marcus to shiver in what Peter hope was pleasure. 

Marcus turned his head and closed his eyes. Like that his neck was even more exposed, but he wasn’t forced to look at Peter. The sharp pain of a bite reminded him he still had to answer. “I don’t know.” 

“Tell me.” Strong fingers grabbed his chin and Marcus was forced to look at him again. “Tell me,” he said again. Now more than ever he needed to be sure that Marcus wanted to keep going. 

“I-- I need. I need something, but I don’t know what.” 

Peter let his finger, wet with lube and Marcus’ release, moved past his sack to probe tentatively at his entrance. Marcus’ reaction was sudden but expected. His first reflex was to close his legs, but that only pushed Peter’s hand closer to the last defense of his body. 

“Is this okay?” And was that really his voice, Peter wondered? So low and gentle, almost a whisper aimed to stroke Marcus’ soul. 

Marcus didn’t answer with words, only with a nod, small and shaky. It was enough to tell Peter that no matter the fear he could still read in his eyes, Marcus wanted to keep going. He was inexperienced but Marcus was an adult and Peter wouldn’t offend him by asking again if this was what he wanted. 

Marcus was able to make decisions, even the hardest ones, if he didn’t want what was happening he only had to say it and Peter would stop. 

Honestly, Peter knew that it would have been easier to make Marcus turn, but he couldn’t stand the thought of losing the sight of his face morphed by pleasure and he didn’t want to stop looking in those expressive eyes that were so full of emotions when Marcus didn’t have all his walls and defences up to protect himself. 

Taking his time stroking and massaging the tight ring of muscles shielding Marcus’ entrance was a torture for both. Never before Peter had been so careful with a lover but if this was his only time, the only time he was allowed with Marcus, he wanted and needed for the other man to cherish it memories like he knew he would. 

While his fingers kept their rhythmic movements, luring his body to relax, his lips claimed Marcus’ mouth with one kiss after the other. When his body was loose and open and his mind focused on the kisses lavished on him, Peter, with infinite care, pushed the tip of one finger inside. The reaction was immediate. Marcus sucked in the air that Peter’s lips threatened to steal from his lungs and tried to retract, his eyes wide and confused, again. 

Without breaking the eye contact that Marcus established, one of his hands curled around his shoulder, unsure if to push his body away or call it closer, left half-moon shaped marks on Peter’s flesh where the nails bit into the tender part of the shoulder. But not even once did he stop pushing his finger in and out. Slowly and gently, but set on conquering that part of Marcus, to claim a piece of him as his. 

Marcus was hot inside and so tight his muscles did their best to keep him out. They could do nothing against Peter’s determination and little by little they lost their grip on his fingers. The silence of the room was filled with their mixed, labored breaths. To give and to take, to conquer and concede in dance as ancient as the world itself. That was the secret shared between the two men that night. 

Peter opened and prepared Marcus’ body for him with endless gentleness, ignoring the hunger awakening in his body and the dark whispers in his mind that pushed him to take what Marcus was so willingly offering. 

Only when his lover could take three of his fingers without pain, Peter shifted again. More lube was dropped on his hands and helped the condom to slide over his hard cock and when he looked into Marcus' eyes he didn’t need words, the other only closed his eyes and hooked his long legs behind his back, pulling Peter against his body. 

His cock was bigger than his fingers and Peter tried to go slow, to make sure that pain wouldn’t intrude into something where it didn’t have room. Marcus hissed and his body tensed but he didn’t ask Peter to stop and yet Peter did when he was wholly sheltered into his body, giving his lover time to adjust to the intrusion and the thought that he had lost something that had been part of him all his life long. 

Marcus looked for shelter under Peter’s body, begged to be hidden and kept protected while the other took him for the first time. Their lovemaking was heartbreakingly beautiful and tragic at the same time. 

Two men came together one night, one learning how to love and share himself, one knowing that he could fall for the one in his arms even if he wasn’t meant for him. What could have been a new beginning carried the seed of a goodbye. 

When Peter came, he screamed Marcus’ name, but when his lover reached a dry orgasm that shook his body in waves, another kiss drank what he whispered between clenched lips that now tasted a bit like blood. 

That night, Marcus cried for what he had lost and what he had gained. Emotions were purged from his body while he took solace in Peter’s arms. He slept with a man who had shown him kindness and love when Marcus only had pain and desperation to share. 

And when morning came and with it the time for goodbye, the thank you that Marcus whispered on Peter’s lips before kissing him for the last time, sounded like a goodbye and broke his heart. 

The man who had joined him on his boat only the day before had been broken and weighed down by guilt and self-loathing, unable to see his heart already found its safe haven in someone else. The one who disembarked as the delicate shades of dawn enlightened the water was perhaps a bit lighter in spirit and hopefully ready to let love - in a new form - enter his life. 

“No, thank you, Marcus,” Peter whispered watching the man he could have loved walking away towards an uncertain future where someone was waiting for him.


End file.
